Friday, June 12, 2009


If we mix the letters around, dogs are actually gods. And trust me, my dog Rocket thinks he's God. There are no rules in his world. Rules such as eating my chairs, digging in my flower pots, shredding our shoes, and taking a dump in the middle of the street. Rocket, have you no shame?

And he eats fucking everything. Last week he pooped out a purple glitter pen. You'd think that would've been painful, but apparently he has an ass of steel because it didn't phase him one bit. I could hear him thinking, "That's nothing, but the fork I ate last week might be a challenge."

Feeding him is almost worse than feeding two daughters that never eat. I have to make it tantalizing with shredded cheese. Isn't it enough that his dog food has fucking blueberries in it? But no, the cheese is required.

I went cold turkey for a week. No cheese. He'd walk over, smell it, then look at me. "You kidding me with this, bitch? Walk your ass over to fridge and get the goods, pronto." He didn't eat for 4 days. He was having hallucinations and bumping into walls, so I gave in.

He's not just picky about food, either. He's choosy about his ladies too. He doesn't just sniff butts and hump on the neighbor dogs. He has a girlfriend. Or rather, a harem, of Barbies. He's obsessed with them. He rips their clothes off and takes them to his diabolical lair (under the dining room table).

One of the Barbies sings Miley Cyrus songs when he pushes a button on her chest. It will be midnight, we're all sleeping, and then, "IF YOU COULD SEE, THE OTHER SIDE OF ME, I'M NOT LIKE ANYBODY ELSE, CAN'T YA TELL...". I picture him changing into a smoking jacket and turning on a secret disco ball after all the stupid humans go to bed.

But all the shitty stuff aside, he's a good little fella. Handsome too. This is the first dog we've had and we wonder why we didn't get one sooner. He is, quite simply, a part of our family. For better or worse.


  1. Hilarious. We're on Golden Retriever #3 -- he's pretty well-behaved, but GR #2 ate children's socks. She pooped out (and threw up) more toddler socks than you can even count.

  2. Toddler socks? Oh shit, I haven't been watching for that. My friend's dog ate a rug. A RUG! Good Lord. That one required surgery.

  3. Truly ...a purple glitter pen...that is imagine it had opened he would have had purple poop for a long time...Ah that little dude Harold, keeper of the Purple Crayon would have been proud...

    Our old dog..a Yorkie...used to go into women's purses and take out their'd think we'd trained him or something! Clearly he was just saving to runaway from us crazy folk

  4. Oh and truly you keep me in I gave you an pressure to snag it...just wanted to give you a shoutout..please keep writing :)